


Bullymagnet Week

by VickyVicarious



Category: Paranatural (Webcomic)
Genre: Bullymagnet Week, Ensemble Cast, Humor, M/M, Romance, Shenanigans, depending on the chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-30 01:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VickyVicarious/pseuds/VickyVicarious
Summary: Max and Johnny bond in the days after hitball. This typically involves elements of crime, snark, mild violence, and people loudly freaking out.[response to Bullymagnet Week]





	1. Max and the Way After Midnight Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> I hate using challenge names as a title but I can't think of an overarching one yet I'm sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day one: night time.

Max wakes up at 4:17 AM to the familiar sound of ol’ Hissin’ Pete freaking out. He groans, rolling over to put a pillow on top of his head, only to bolt upright when he rolls right onto his fractured arm.

“FLIPPIN’ HECK,” he screams through gritted teeth, curling over it.

“Mister Max! Are you okay?” PJ inquires, looming out of the darkness with a nightmare grin. Max means that literally. He’s had nightmares about that grin.

It does look a little more nervous than usual this time, though. He squints, honestly just to get a better look in the darkness, but PJ immediately quails before his face, admitting, “I’m sorryyyy, it was me that got Hissin’ Pete going but I only did it because a weird kid on your roof threatened to punch Lefty!”

“…What,” Max starts, only to be interrupted by none other than Johnny Jhonny swinging in through his window roaring a battlecry. PJ squeaks and vanishes through the floor. Hissin’ Pete hisses louder, before PJ reaches an arm up through the floor and yanks him away too.

“IS THAT BLOB ON YOU AGAIN MAX I SWEAR I’LL PUNCH IT REEEEEEAL GOOD BOI,” Johnny – threatens? Promises? … _Consoles?_

“Guess my clock’s three minutes slow,” Max mutters to himself, too worn out at this point to even bother with being shocked. Honestly, Johnny swinging through his window at four in the morning threatening to punch stuff is perfectly in character. The real question is how he even knows where Max lives.

“How do you even know where I live?” Max asks. Johnny blinks, and stops punching at the air in favor of approaching the bed to look down at him.

“Yeah so after hitball this girl comes up all wantin’ me to break in and steal your secrets or whatever so she can double-blackmail ya. Said she’d pay me with  _three stars._  So I said sure an’ she showed me your ack-e-dem-ick  _files_ , son.” Johnny grins, bright and manic even in the darkness. “You got an A in  _three classes_  last year? NERRRRD.”

There’s only one girl who would ever offer to pay the school bully to break into his house and steal double-blackmail on him in the dead of night when he’s just been injured.  _Suzy, you **monster**._

“Oh yeah, I’m real lame. I can do basic math and everything: breaking in plus stealing plus phone call to the cops equals juvie.” Max whips out his cell phone with, dare he say, a good bit of flair. It’s totally a bluff, and honestly a pretty weak retort regardless, but he’s not at the top of his game tonight, okay. Spectral hitball really takes it outta a guy.

“Oi oi oi, gimme that,” Johnny hisses though, and  _leaps on the bed_  to snatch the phone out of Max’s hand and hurl it across the room. It crashes into the wall with an audible CRACK.

Max stares in utter disbelief.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR,” he yells indignantly, attempting to sit up further.

Johnny smacks a hand across his mouth, shoving him all the way back down into his pillow with embarrassing ease.

“SHHHHH,” he shushes, extremely loudly. “Don’t wanna wake yer folks, man.”

“Muh dah whlld mmfp frh uh nuhclr uhfalt,” Max complains through the fingers over his face.

“Don’t believe ya,” Johnny grins (of course he would speak perfect muffled-ese), and then just sits down so he’s straddling Max’s stomach, making it a little hard to breathe and also bringing back war flashbacks to their fight in the hallway a few days ago. His other hand swings down to hold Johnny’s right arm down as well with, again, embarrassing ease. “Anyway, you were gonna sell me out to the  _swine_. Backstabber.”

Fed up with not being able to retort (finally, his brain’s kicking back into gear, and he’s got a real good one about  _bacon_  up a plan), Max licks Johnny’s hand.

Far from being phased, Johnny just leans in closer, grins the kind of grin that should come with its own tire-screech soundtrack, and licks the back of his own hand.

“WH TH FLPP,” Max protests, because  _what_. Johnny’s nose was almost touching his, their eyes were meeting, for a moment he honestly just can’t breathe because what  _was_  that?!

“Little spittle never scared m-e…” Johnny brags, losing steam about halfway through and just staring at Max with wide eyes. It’s hard to tell in the darkness, but his cheeks look red. Could he really… be realizing what a dumbass he’s being?

“ _Uh here talk_ ,” Johnny yelps, sitting up and yanking his hand back like it’s been burned. He’s even flapping it in the air, there’s spit flying off, it’s just. It’s gross.

“It’s kinda hard to stab someone in the back when they broke into your house to  _steal_  from you, dude,” Max says, choosing to just let that whole licking thing go. Never mention it again. “Also, that makes two of my most treasured belongings you’ve stolen and destroyed forever.”

“I. Uh. Sh-shut up, you’re too beholden to the Man! I just saved you from yourself!”

“What does that even  _mean?_ ”

“I dunno. Stephen always says it and sounds mega turbo cool though. Don’t get all beholden to the Man, man. ‘S bad for the liver.”

Max is sleep-deprived, his arm aches, he’s pretty sure there’s some spit on his face, plus Johnny is sitting on his gut telling him not to trust the government – he just. He can’t help it.

At first it’s just a huff. And then… really, it stays just a huff, because Johnny’s heavy and it hurts to breathe too much, but he’s grinning and laugh-huffing and up above him Johnny’s eyes get really wide and that makes Max laugh even more.

“K-kid, stop. Stoppit,” Johnny protests weakly. His mouth is moving kinda slow and his face looks all red again, and Max physically couldn’t stop if you  _paid him three Starchman stars_ , oh geez.

Then Johnny smacks him swiftly (yet somehow gently?) in the face.

“I SAID STOP,  _BOYO_ ,” he roars. “D-don’t you be mirthin’ at me!”

“I’ll mirth wherever I please,” Max scowls. A bit of a grin’s still fighting its way out of his mouth, though. “It’s my bedroom.”

“I – I am gonna lick your  _face_  next time,” Johnny threatens. “Right all up on your forehead. Don’t test me.”

“…Well, I believe that,” Max concludes after a disturbed moment. “Fine. I’ll be mad at you again, happy?”

“NO.”

“Well then whaddaya want?! I don’t just keep blackmail lying around my room, okay?” (Max is very pointedly not thinking about the open drawer full of days-of-the-week underwear his dad bought to torture him but which he actually wears sometimes because Laundry Days suck and yet are still too far and few between. At least he wears them on the wrong days, but still.)

“Huh?” Johnny blinks down at him in complete bafflement for a minute, before his expression clears. “Psht, nah man, you think I care about that? I just wanted to know where ya rest yer noggin.”

“…so you  _don’t_ want to blackmail me for Suzy?”

“Why would I do that when I can just punch you in your face if I feel like it?” Johnny asks, with apparently genuine interest in the answer.

“I – I guess no reason,” Max admits, torn between basking in someone  _not_  trying to blackmail him, or sweating at the implication Johnny’s about to punch him in his face.

“Nah man, I’m just here to sign your cast,” Johnny continues nonchalantly, reaching into a pocket and emerging with a full  _rainbow_  of sharpies splayed between his fingers. “Gotta come quick. Early squirrel gets the birdseed, an’ all.”

“I. What –  _why?_ ”

“ _Cuz_.”

There’s really no arguing with that kind of logic.

“Okay, fine, I guess,” Max agrees, and shoves at Johnny with his good arm until the guy’s scooched off him enough that he can sit up and grab his lamp. It turns on with a cheery, ‘ _I’ll brighten up your day!_ ’ and reveals Johnny’s eyes gleaming at his arm with a disturbing amount of focus.

“………this snow’s already  _trode on_ , yo,” he mutters with clear disappointment.

Max peers down at his arm. On it is a love heart with a doodle of his dad’s face inside, and the word  _lame_  from Zoey.

“Yeah, my family are pretty, uh, squirrely,” he agrees. “Feel free to cover them up. Especially the heart one. Please cover up the heart one.”

Somewhat cheered by this, Johnny whistles. Twirling the sharpies between his fingers, he bites at a sparkly orange one to yank the cap off with his teeth.

“Yer about to see a master at  _work_ , so listen close,” he says nonsensically, then goes to town.

* * *

Max wakes up in the morning to sunlight in his eyes, Johnny’s feet on his neck, and his dad beaming down at him from the doorway.

“Aww, sonbeam, you don’t have to  _sneak_  your friends over for sleepovers,” he coos.

“Rghrrmffo ‘way,” Max retorts, wittily.

He squirms loose from the death-cuddle Johnny has on his ankles after about seven minutes of mortal combat, then climbs over the bully and leaves the room to get dressed, all without interrupting Johnny’s snores once. In the bathroom, Max does his business, gets dressed, brushes his teeth and his hair and basically just avoids looking at his arm a lot until PJ peers over his shoulder like a total creep and makes excited noises.

“That looks s-so  _cool_ , Maxeus!” he exclaims, so fired up that he appears to be testing out weird nicknames and everything. Lefty, rising through the sink, gives a thumbs up.

Finally he looks down at his cast. Max slowly smiles.

“Yeah,” he says, looking at the brightly colored picture of him and Johnny riding on the back of what he assumes is a Burnhound, since it’s on fire and appears to be eating some kind of electric lizard. Johnny’s name is in big, bold letters above this, along with the letters MVP, but there’s also a bunch of random doodles too, of fists and explosions and a can of soup and his baseball hat, and even something that kinda looks like a doctopus if he squints a little to the left. Johnny has also, for no apparent reason, drawn himself with his gang of friends on the back of Max’s cast, in what looks like one of their friendship fusion moves.

The art is not great. The colors are garish. There’s basically no space left on the cast for anyone else to write anything, unless their handwriting is really tiny, and Max had been kinda planning on letting Isaac sign it first to show they were still cool, if he asked. That’s sort of a pointless idea now.

Still…

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat,” Max agrees with PJ, before filling a glass of cold water to go throw at Johnny’s face. He tries to contain his smile at the way the guy leaps into instant murderous alertness, but he can’t completely stop it and, weirdly enough, Johnny stops choking blankets to grin back at him once he notices.

“Not bad,” Max admits, lifting his cast.

“Yer welcome, birdseed,” Johnny replies, before climbing back out the window and vanishing into the woods instead of staying for cereal like a normal person.


	2. Max, Johnny, and the Very Important Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two: heist.

“Mr. Spender, I need your help!”

It’s not exactly unusual for one of the Activity Club members to come bursting into the room with a dramatic one-liner. Actually, it’s probably far weirder for any of them to make their presence known like normal people, but Max usually does his best to bring down the curve on this one. Pair that up with his reluctance to ask for help in general, and… he would’ve expected more of a reaction, honestly.

“Oh, good afternoon, Max,” Spender mutters, flipping a page of his magazine. He doesn’t even bother to look up. “Yes, your pop quiz was a little below normal for you.”

“I’ve only been here like a week, you don’t know my normal,” Max retorts, frustrated. “Not that I ever expect to see ‘normal’ again… But, anyway, this isn’t about school!”

At this, Spender does perk up. “A spirit? Report!”

“…Not a spirit, per se,” Max shrugs. “More of a… Starchman situation?”

“STARCH-SIT!” Ed bursts into the room, followed by Isabel twirling her new umbrella around her wrist with a fierce grin. As Ed continues talking, he and she begin spontaneously fencing with their tools, leaving Isaac blocked in the doorway, scowling. “Man, I love those! What was it this time? Quoteathon? The Great Tremble? Oh, did he bring out The Noodle?”

“What? No. No. What is that stuff? No.” Max sighs, turning back to Spender. “He confiscated something that belongs to me, can you help me get it back?”

Ed just laughs mysteriously.

“Max! How could you lose y–” Cutting himself off with a quick glance to Isabel, Spender changes tacks with a sigh: “What did you do to make him confiscate your tool? Were you magnetizing things in class?”

“ _No_. It’s weird enough that I’ve been carrying a baseball bat around everywhere, you really think I’m gonna draw attention to it like a numbskull?” The looks Max gets suggest that yes, everyone does think exactly that. Jerks, the lot of them.

“Well, your pop quiz suggests – ”

“There was a spirit on my desk eating that test! You saw it! You  _sparkled_  at it!”

“The fact remains, even Isaac gets good grades with spirits around.” The boy still trapped in the doorway perks up a little, until Spender continues, “Well, not in art.”

“Heh.” Max can’t help snickering at that one, despite the betrayed look Isaac shoots him. But he’s quick to get back on track – this is a serious matter, after all. “I only said I don’t really like  _The Hobbit_ , can you just help me get my property back?”

Spender sighs again, with feeling.

“Who doesn’t like  _The Hobbit_ , Max?” He shakes his head despairingly, and Max rolls his eyes. So sue him for preferring sci-fi. “I really shouldn’t encourage so much flaunting of the school rules – Isabel, your turn to watch the security cameras. I suppose I’ll be busy walking young Max down to the office to plead his case…”

“Max has his bat,” Isaac points out.

“Yes, it’s really not a good idea to separate a new spectral from their tool for long, we all know that Isaac – wait. You  _do_  have your bat.”

“I never said he took my bat,” Max grumbles, glaring at Isaac. There’s a stupid triumphant glint in his eyes; Max is totally going to remember how petty he is. He’ll be  _twice_  as petty back over this. “He took my hat! I need it back!”

As one, everyone turns to him with silent, yet expressive faces.

 _Do you really think I, a Teacher, would stand against the ancient teacherly art of Confiscation unless a tool were involved?_  Spender asks.

 _Gee, Max, that’s lame. Never knew you were so lame. It’s just a stupid hat_ , Isabel opines.

 _I wonder if I made a paint oven, could I cook a spectral potato? Hot potato hot!_ …Ed.

 _Ha ha ha that’ll show you, don’t make fun of my dumb drawings ha ha ha I win_ , gloats Isaac.

“Fine! I don’t need your help anyway!” Max yells, and storms out of the room.

* * *

The problem is, he doesn’t even know where Starchman keeps the stuff he confiscates. Normally the teacher’s desk would be a good bet, but this  _is_ Starchman. Max vaguely recalls a treasure chest his first day. The English teacher is way too terrifying to just ask for his hat back, and there’s no way he’s just waiting around until he manages to earn twenty-five stars to get it back.

Honestly, he’s not sure if it even counts as  _confiscation_  when you require students to  _pay_  you to get their stuff back, but the stars aren’t actually real money. Even if no one seems to ever remember that fact. Even the vending machine by the cafeteria accepts them, to say nothing of that school store.

Maybe, if it were just a matter of a day or two, Max would be willing to grit his teeth and wait it out… but collecting twenty-five stars would by all indications take a  _lot_ more time and effort. No, there’s got to be some way he can steal it back…

“Ow!”

Even though Max is the one who ends up knocked to the ground, Johnny gets mad. And he wasn’t even the one Max bumped into.

“ _Ollie_ ,” the bully snarls, cracking his fists with that signature menacing grin, “what little punk dares to bump into  _my friend?_ ”

The big lug blinks contemplatively down at Max, who rolls his eyes.

“He’s a nerd,” he decides.

“A  _nerd?!_ ” Johnny’s voice gets more than a little bit insane, his grin ratcheting wider. Max can hear those tires screeching again. “Y’boys know how I feel ‘bout  _nerds_.”

“You wish some of them actually wore suspenders ‘cuz snapping them seems like it’d be fun,” Stephen contributes with a grin, Ollie and RJ nodding seriously.

“No, not  _that_  feel, the mean feel!”

“I mean, that feel’s kinda mean too,” Max interjects.

“Yeah, Puckett, but it’s not like  _punch_  mean, you get me?” Johnny does a double-take. “Wait.  _Max?_ ”

All of a sudden, Max finds himself lifted to his feet, brushed off in like fifteen different directions by what feels suspiciously more like nine arms than eight (a ghost?), and his right hand receives another weird Johnny slap-biff-punch-shake-clasp greeting. He’s fairly certain it’s not the same one as last time, but he doesn’t know if that’s because he’s moved up in Johnny’s book, or if they’re both just completely random. At the end, Johnny just stands there, giving him this weird stare.

“You look  _different_ , man,” Stephen says.

“Yeah, that’s cause Starchman confiscated my  _hat_ ,” Max snarls, rage returning as he remembers the injustice done to him. “That thing is basically part of my head!”

“Oooooooh,” Johnny’s gang agree. “Yeah, that’s it. You look naked, dude.”

“You look like a  _nerd_ ,” Johhny says. “That’s just not right.”

“I thought you thought I  _was_  a nerd, though? I mean… you broke into my house to call me one in the middle of the night only like a couple days ago.” Max hoists his heavily-graffitied cast as proof.

“Y-yeah,” Johnny says, cheeks flushing. “But. You don’t normally  _look_  like a nerd. Yer all… stealth-nerd. Normally.”

“Did. Did you just say my hat makes me look cool.”

“T-this kid needs a hat, stat!” Johnny roars, and leaps at RJ, trying to tug off their hood. “RJ, c’mon, it’s a sacrifice for the greater good! Gotta cover his, his stupid, uh bald head. Yeah!”

…That sounds like a yes.

Max ducks his head, scratching at his hair, grinning a little. When he looks up, it’s to Johnny staring at him again, frozen, with one hand in RJ’s mouth and the other hovering mid-air.

“W-what?”

“……Nothun’. Ollie, Stephen: extraction.” The two boys help Johnny to prise his hand out of RJ’s mouth, a task that takes a couple of minutes. They all act like this is usual stuff for them, but Max is very concerned about what this implies for RJ’s bite strength, and makes a note not to touch the hood any time soon.

Still, Johnny’s got a point. Max needs a hat. Not just any hat. He needs the hat his mom gave him, the one that makes him look  _cool_. And, well, he was just thinking about how hard it would be to do this alone…

“Johnny,” he says carefully, well aware that maybe this counts as making a deal with the devil or whatever. “Johnny, uh, do you want to steal back my hat with me?”

Johnny’s face is – yeah. Definitely the devil.

“ _Do I ever, MAX_ ,” he exclaims, suddenly at his side, arm clasped over his shoulders. “Do. I. Ev-arr. Yes! Yes Max I  _EVER SO DO_  -”

“Great we got it you like crime,” Max mutters, trying to at least pretend like he regrets this decision.

Twenty minutes later, after one strategy meeting, one hoist into the vents, ten minutes getting lost in the vents, and one spent hovering in the ceiling trying to think of a cool way to jump down without bumping his cast. After some frantic hiding beneath the desk and a lot of attempts at lockpicking the treasure chest and Johnny finally just kicking the lock off with a roar that brings Mr. Starchman back into the room moustache a-tremble and wielding what Max realizes in horror must be  _The Noodle_  -

Twenty minutes later, he finds himself bolting down a stairwell, screaming in mutual terror with Johnny at his side, when their escape is foiled by Cody, Violet, and Jeff walking up the steps chatting. The only free space next to them is filled up by a small spectral goat on two hooves wearing a ridiculously huge backpack, so there’s no way through. Well, on the steps anyway, but Max manages to leap up and rebound off the wall, flipping over them and landing in the hallway beyond. Freedom awaits him in the form of the open front doors to the school, and for a second he’s tempted, but…

Johnny’s tangled in a heap with the other kids on the last few steps, and if Max runs now he’ll probably start punching his way out. Jeff has had it rough enough lately, what with the spirit possession and all.

He pretends that’s why he goes back to offer Johnny a hand up, followed only moments later by a pool noodle lasso landing round both their necks with (he could swear) a spectral  _yeehaw!_  echoing in the air.

He pretends real hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can consider it alt text canon that the new handshake is indeed personalized and represents Max moving up many rungs on Johnny's people ladder.


	3. Max and the Breakfast Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day three: detention.

Somehow, he thought school jail in Mayview would be… more than this.

Max has been in detention for ten minutes by this point, and he can feel himself actually getting  _bored_. Life lately has been so full of terror and nonsense that he had a little trouble recognizing the feeling at first but, yup, that’s what it is. Boredom.

Oh, for sure, the room does appear to have a population startlingly similar to the characters in  _The Breakfast Club_ , at least if you’re willing to consider Max the brain. Which, well, he  _has_  one, and that’s more than can be said for most of the rest of this town, so the comparison sort of holds. Johnny is obviously the rebel, so there’s another match. Granted, the jock is a ghost, but he has been pretty quiet, just like the recluse and the beauty (actual students Max does not recognize), so at least that’s something.

Actually, even Johnny has been quiet, busy scribbling away at a piece of paper in front of him. Garcia snoozes behind the desk, the other kids are quiet, Max taps on the desk and half-heartedly considers doing homework to live up to his role here. Nope, he quickly decides, he’s never gonna be that invested in any kid of bit, let alone an unintentional one that Mayview apparently generates on its own. Besides, none of the cool stuff he’s heard was in the movie is actually happening. This detention is basically like all detentions. It definitely does not live up to the hype Starchman gave it.

Sighing, Max drops his chin into his hand. He’s got nearly an hour left to go, the only book in his bag is flipping  _The Hobbit_  which got him into this mess in the first place, and after everything he doesn’t even have his hat back. This whole day (except lunch) has been a bust.

Well. Crawling through the improbably-large vents with Johnny  _was_  kinda fun, but that’s probably just his adrenaline addiction talking. None of that to be found here, anyway. Might as well take a page from Garcia’s book and nap his way through what he can of this –

Just as Max’s eyes slide shut, a paper airplane hits his head. It actually lodges itself in his  _ear_ , sending him bolt upright with an undignified yelp that has everyone turning around to look at him.

“Heheh, um,” Max grins at them, airplane crumpled in his fist under the desk. “I sneezed?”

“Do that on your own time,” Garcia yawns, subsiding back into a pile on his desk. The pretty girl two desks ahead of Max takes a minute to inspect her long hair, presumably for boogers, before wrinkling her nose at him and returning to texting under the table. The jock ghost goes back to flexing each individual chest muscle. The recluse in the back lets her bangs fall back down to cover her face completely, and Max catches a glimpse of an earbud.

Two desks to Max’s right, Johnny is back to dutiful scribbling, complete with furrowed eyebrows and the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. He’s  _fooling no one._

Glaring at Johnny, Max slowly unfolds the airplane, setting it on the desk in front of him. It reads:

_Do you wanna ice cream_

Underneath, there’s boxes to check either ‘yes’, ‘nah I’m a weirdo or maybe lactose intolerant’, or ‘only if it’s floating’.

Max blinks. He looks up, but Johnny is completely absorbed in his fake studying even though he is pretty obviously just drawing squiggles, so he ends up just reading the note again a few more times in confusion.

_Why would the ice cream be floating_ , he finally writes back, then as an afterthought makes a new box for ‘is this for another time or are you saying you have ice cream on your person???’ and checks it.

Folding the paper up into a square, he balances it on his thumb and flicks it back, aiming for Johnny’s eyeball. Sadly, the shot falls short, ending up lost in the row of desks between them. Johnny sits upright, staring at it with unnecessary focus. Slowly stretching out a foot, the bully gradually slides down in his seat until his hair is level with his desktop, in an effort to get the note without actually getting up. It’s… not exactly what Max was going for, but the sight’s pretty amusing nonetheless, and he can’t help smirking as Johnny strains only two inches away from the edge of the paper.

Eventually, Johnny catches the note with the tip of his toe and drags it back swiftly, picking it up before hunching intently over it. Max continues to watch with interest, because even though Johnny’s hunched too low to really see his expression, he kinda looks like he’s getting red again.

The returning note would have hit Max in the face if not for his excellent reflexes. As it is, he hurts himself trying to instinctively catch it with both hands, and has to take a minute to breathe through his teeth. He really misses PK. The little guy must’ve gotten full or something, since it wandered off and hasn’t yet returned. Honestly, that’s not much of a problem anymore since the cast does its job, except for when Max forgets he’s injured… which he tends to do way more often than anyone with his amount of parkour experience can justify.

Johnny looks almost concerned. It’s weird, but also a little disappointing because if he were blushing he definitely isn’t anymore. Not that Max has any special reason to care if he’s blushing or not, but. Uh.

_Do I look like the kinda dingus who carries ice cream around everywhere, I meant taking it from you scream in the back_ , Johnny has written under Max’s checkmark with what looks to Max’s eyes like classic defenserence. Also, he’s circled the part about floating ice cream and written  _WE KNOW_  underneath all ominously, with wiggly letters and everything.

Since Max has no idea what Johnny knows about floating ice cream (or what anyone could know about something like that, to be honest), he just flat out ignores that bit – but he can’t help turning in his seat to look at Recluse in the back. Yeah, that girl actually does have a cooler under her desk. Okay, weird.

_Just because I let you draw on my cast and crawled through the ceiling with you, doesn’t mean I want to bully anyone, Johnny. You know, maybe it’s something to do with them beating me up and breaking my stuff, but I don’t actually like bullies._

So maybe Max’s note back is a little harsh, but, uh, at least it’s the truth. Getting invited to join in on bullying really bothers Max. Sure, Johnny is kind of endearing with his love for his friends and his cheerful enjoyment of violence. He doesn’t seem to really have anything  _against_  any of the people he bullies, so much as he just enjoys wreaking havoc, and Max kinda gets that to an extent. Plus fighting with him is… almost fun, sometimes.

But still. Max has been bullied before. He’s not a fan of the institution.

Two seats over, Johnny’s eyes get very very wide and he starts blinking rapidly. His cheeks are flushing red again, but along with what looks weirdly like hurt on his face his fist is clenching around the note and, oh boy now he’s baring his teeth. He looks like he can’t decide whether to murder Max or cry, which. Wow. He knew Johnny liked him more after hitball, but –

He reaches into his bag, but all his notebooks are in his locker; all that’s in there now is metal junk and that dumb book. Fishing through his pockets luckily reveals a gum wrapper that has seen better days and at least two wash cycles, but at least there’s no gum in it.

_Maybe some other time though_ , Max quickly scribbles onto it, before rolling it up and pelting it at Johnny’s face. He definitely doesn’t want to admit that he feels guilty for calling a bully a bully, that’s  _not_  what this is, it’s just. Gotta encourage interpersonal growth or whatever. That’s all.

Upon reading the latest note, Johnny’s anger dissolves off his face in favor of a very wide, very wobbly grin. He looks up to meet Max’s gaze for a second, flushes, and then props his elbow up on the back of his chair as he glances around the classroom, like he’s trying to look all cool and unconcerned.

It’s… kind of adorable?

Who knew Johnny was such a dork when it came to trying to make friends.

Max is still marveling at this revelation, when he spots a flash of a familiar blue inside Johnny’s open jacket. Widening his eyes, he has to resort to gesticulating wildly to get the other boy’s attention since he’s out of paper and throwing a magnet would probably wake Garcia up.

As soon as Johnny notices Max’s charades, any hint of him ever being something like innocent or adorable slips away in favor of a grin made of  _pure evil_  and possibly shark teeth implants.

‘Oh, this?’ He pantomimes in very fake surprise, before reaching into his jacket and taking out MAX’S HAT. Far from returning it, even though that was the whole reason they both ended up here, he pretends like he’s never even seen it before. Johnny silently oohs and ahhs over every inch of it, before turning it around backwards and planting it on his own head.

Max’s hands hit the desk,  _hard_.

“GIVE THAT BACK JOHNNY,” he whisper-yells. “JOHNNY. TAKE IT OFF.”

Johnny puts his hands behind his head, silently pretending to whistle.

“YOU-”

“ _SHHHHHH_ ,” the ghost jock says, “Some of us are trying to serve our time peacefully, man.”

Both Max and Johnny shush him right back with extreme violence, then the girl shushes  _them_ , then the weirdo in the back starts hissing, and finally Garcia wakes up with a loud “SNNMRF.”

“No talking in detention,” he intones menacingly… then meets Max’s eyes. “Ugh, you.”

“Mr. Garcia, I need my hat back,” Max says daringly, arm straight up in the air. “Or I don’t know what kind of weird stuff I might start saying.”

Blackmail is a filthy, filthy business, but by golly does it feel  _good_. He almost gets why Suzy is so dedicated to the craft. Garcia blanches, and instantly orders Johnny to return Max’s hat. The bully does so with an impressed look on his face, darting intrigued glances between the teacher and Max, but he doesn’t care.

He’s too busy pulling his hat on, adjusting it to maximum comfort level. His head, which Ollie kind of had a point about feeling naked without it, is finally back to normal and it feels  _good_. He almost wishes he’d thought about using his blackmail on Garcia sooner, though he’s not sure Starchman would have cared.

Max shoots Johnny a triumphant grin, tapping the brim of his cap with two fingers.

The bully stares at him for several seconds, eyes wide and not appearing to breathe, before dropping his face flat to the desk with a  _thunk_. He puts his arms over his ears and doesn’t move once for the rest of detention.

It takes almost half an hour to let out, but even stuck back in the same silent torture as he was before the first note flew his way, Max somehow feels anything but bored.

Instead, he puts his hands behind his head and silently pretends to whistle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that Johnny usually follows the rules fairly well in detention. RJ meanwhile talks up a storm, it's super metal.


	4. Johnny and the Pucketts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day four: meet the family.

It’s kind of unclear how it happens exactly. The Activity Club has been very uncaring of Max’s hat plight today up to and including the detention part. Given that Johnny’s friends weren’t caught for the distraction they made and he told them not to wait around, he doesn’t have anyone else to hang with once detention lets out either. And he’s still been – it’s maybe just the gradual realization that he’s had  _fun_  hanging out with Johnny this afternoon, but Max kind of doesn’t want to say goodbye just yet.

He doesn’t plan on doing anything about it exactly, but then they get on the same bus home (Johnny shoves Max all the way down the aisle into the very back, then plunks down directly next to him even though there’s enough space for four kids back here) and they’re getting very very close to Max’s stop. He knows that he ran into… onto… Johnny fairly close to his house on his first day, and they’ve met on the way a couple times since then, so it’s not crazy to assume that they live nearby each other. And it’s not like it should be too far out of the other guy’s way, if he could make the trip to Max’s house in the middle of the night so easily.

Plus, he hasn’t really said much since Max stole his hat back. He doesn’t seem mad at all, more like he’s in this kind of quiet mood with a lot of casual shoving involved, and it feels kind of companionable.

Max is a sarcastic cynic, okay, but he’s not  _antisocial_. With Isaac currently on his petty-list, and Isabel and Ed almost always completely wrapped up in goofy spirit shenanigans, and his phone still broken in any case, Max’s other social prospects for the rest of the day are limited to his family and PJ. Which is fine, but Johnny’s been mostly all right today and apparently cares a lot more deeply than Max thought about being friends so why not, and why does he even have to justify this to himself, geez.

“Hey,” Max says, when they pull up to his block. “Um. I think we sell ice cream at my house. I mean. Store.”

Johnny’s head swivels around towards him slowly. The look on his face is weird.

“G-good for you,” he says.

“…You said you wanted to eat ice cream before.”

“SO. Can’t a guy want a delicious frozen dairy treat?! I ain’t gonna pay you for it!”

“I – I didn’t say you had to –” Max stops. Puts a hand over his face. Why is everyone in this town so  _weird._ “Okay, Johnny. I’m going inside. I’m gonna eat some ice cream. You can come in too or not. Bye.”

He’s tempted to escape out the window, but there’s probably already been enough bus-jumping in his life already, so instead he just climbs over Johnny and walks up the aisle. He doesn’t look back once as he trudges inside the store and straight over to the freezer section.

“My son!” Dad exclaims from behind the counter.

“My father,” Max mumbles back, sticking his head inside to get a closer look at the available brands and not because he feels dumb and wants to hide. He’s just choosing his ice cream.

Behind him, the doors whiz open and then shut again.

“AH! YOU!” Dad shouts. Max doesn’t stand up, he’s way too engrossed in deciding between vanilla, chocolate, or cherry tornado whatever that is, but he smiles. “The secret snugglebuddy!”

Max’s smile drops off his face in an instant.

“ _DAD_ ,” he snarls, spinning around with two random ice cream bars in his hand. It’s kind of hard to point dramatically without dropping them, but he manages sorta. “I’ve never had a snugglebuddy in my life!”

“Muahahahaha… Is that so…” Ducking down behind the counter, Dad emerges moments later holding – oh  _geez_  – “Then I guess you won’t recognize  _this fuzzy duck!_ ”

Bird Eagle is not a duck and Dad  _knows_  that. But Max is not gonna rise to the bait.

“Quack quack quack,” Dad hops him along the counter. He stops to peck him at the register keys.

“RRGH GIVE HIM BACK,” Max shouts, flinging the ice creams at Johnny’s face and rushing to the counter to get his property back. Not like he  _sleeps_  with Bird Eagle anymore, but, uh –

“Why did you even have him under there?” He tucks Bird Eagle into a perch on his cast, where the stuffed animal actually fits really well.

“Ehh, to throw him at your face in the morning?” Dad says. Max wishes he were still holding projectiles.

“Just for that, we’re taking some ice cream and not paying,” he says instead, gesturing at Johnny. The bully managed to catch the ice cream bars, it looks like, but it also looks kind of like someone has pressed his pause button, because he is just totally frozen in place.

“Yes. We. Tell me, child of mine, who is this young man who appears in the night yet vanishes come dawn?” Dad steps out from behind the counter, doing his best to loom. “ _Boy_. What is your name?!”

Ugh, his dad is so dumb.

But Johnny seems to be buying it, weirdly enough. Or, at least, when he swings stiffly back into motion (Max would add a squeaky hinge sound in post-production), it’s to walk forward with an innocent smile, holding out his hand.

“Hello,” he says robotically. “My name is Johnny Jhonny. It is nice to meet you, mister Puckett.”

“Oh god are there aliens too,” Max blurts before he can help it.

They both ignore him. Dad reaches out and, rather than shake Johnny’s hand, lifts it up with two fingers and inspects it all over, humming thoughtfully. Johnny just stands there and lets him with a blank smile, what  _is_  this.

“Stop,” Max pleads. “Both of you stop, you’re embarrassing me in very different and confusing ways right now.”

“A worthy palm… This hand is no stranger to hard work… Yes. I believe you are one with whom I can entrust my heartling’s safety. Johnny Jhonny, do you swear to prot–”

Max bursts forward, grabs Johnny’s hand, and drags him up the stairs, chanting, “Stoppit stoppit stoppit stoppit stoppit,” the whole way.

“DO YOU SWEAAAAAR,” Dad bellows up the stairs after them, and Johnny actually starts to turn around like he’s gonna  _answer_ , nope, nope nope nope Max grabs on tighter and yanks him up into the apartment.

Of course, there’s still the boss monster to deal with.

“Who’s your friend?” Zoey asks straightaway. “He looks like a greaser.”

“You’ve never seen a greaser in your life,” Max retorts.

“-I’m  _worse_  than a greaser,” Johnny interjects, “I’m –”

“Greasiest?”

“…Hey, is that ice cream?” Zoey asks, interrupting the evil eye Johnny is giving Max. “I want some!”

“Get your own, small child.” Max starts to drag Johnny along to his room, but the bully digs in his heels as they pass Zoey.

“Hey,” Johnny grins down at her. “Cool hair.”

Zoey  _lights up_. Max’s entire body breaks out into a cold sweat.

“Thanks!” she says with a huge gaptoothed grin. “I got the ginger genes. Redheads are the best.”

Johnny wordlessly holds out a fist, Zoey bumps it with her own, and Max succumbs to the sweet embrace of death. He can hear them still conversing faintly in the distance as he follows the light.

“I’m Zoey, I’m his sister.”

“Johnny. I like ya. I’ll beat somebud up anytime, just ask.”

“ _Whoa_.”

Max’s spirit returns to his body through pure indignation.

“Johnny! Do not beat up small children for my sister!”

“Who says I’d ask him to beat up kids? I could do that myself.” Zoey crosses her arms over her chest and pouts at him. “Maybe I want him to beat  _you_  up, Maxwell.”

Johnny bursts out laughing. This is worse than Max’s worst nightmares. Why why why did he let this happen.

“Too la–”

“FUNNY JOKE, ZOEY. BUHBYE NOW,” Max shouts, pulling with all his might to get Johnny inside his room where he can lock the door and never let him  _ever talk to Zoey again_.

“Yer family’s fun,” Johnny grins at him, leaning on the door right next to Max. He looks so… not-evil that it actually stops Max’s panic short. His smile looks genuinely happy instead of murderous, his eyes are soft and nice and, just, really close.

Max abruptly remembers that he’s still holding Johnny’s hand.

As soon as he lets go, Johnny looks down, then his face goes bright red and he drops the ice creams to clutch the wrist of the hand Max had been holding like he needs to strangle the cooties out of it or something. Max is a huge fan of this overreaction because it allows him to bolt over to his bed, hiding his own very hot cheeks.

Once he feels relatively certain he’s capable of talking without his face catching literal fire, he turns around, leaving Bird Eagle on his pillow.

“Hey, the ice cream’s probably melting,” he says. Cool. Slick. Calm.

“HRGnaaamnnfl,” Johnny splutters, still a little less so.

Max gets up and grabs the ice cream bars off the floor. Johnny jumps about a mile when he brushes past him to sit back down on the floor next to the bed.

“Oooohkay, so we’ve got chocolate or–” Max squints down at the label of the second one suspiciously, “…dairy flavor. Hm.”

“Uh, dairy’s good,” Johnny says, finally clearing his throat and approaching. He still seems a little flustered, sitting down kind of close to Max then shifting away, then back a little closer. “I, uh, I like, yeah ‘scool.”

“Well, can’t say I wanna try it, so knock yourself out I guess,” Max says, handing it over. He uses his teeth to rip open his own ice cream bar, and takes a big bite.

Which of course, is the exact moment Johnny blinks and says, “Oh hey, you have a little brother too. ‘Sup, kid.”

And waves nonchalantly at PJ, seated in Max’s desk chair.

In the next few seconds, three things happen very quickly:

Max’s mouth falls open, and his bite of ice cream falls into his lap.

“I’VE BEEN  _SEEN_ ,” PJ wails, and drops through the floor.

“CRIMINY WHAT MAX I’LL SAVE YA,” Johnny yells, climbing into Max’s lap along with the fallen ice cream and kind of clinging to him in direct opposition to his words.

“Y- Johnny you’re a  _spectral?!_ ” Max shouts, then abandons talking in favor of hanging on to Johnny’s waist when PJ pops back up cautiously and Johnny starts scrambling after him with a fist readied. He is unceremoniously shucked to the floor. “No no wait JohNNY WAIT DON’T –”

Lefty zooms to the rescue, flatly blocking Johnny’s punch before it can hit PJ’s nose.

“YAAAAAAH,” Johnny roars, punching rapidly with both arms. Lefty blocks each one, until finally Max scrambles around in between them.

“ _STOP!_  Johnny, it’s okay!”

“T-thes’re your floating friends?” Johnny pants, wild-eyed, fists still at the ready. “Max?”

 _WE KNOW_  flashes into Max’s head. Along with… the doctopus doodle on his cast, and Johnny getting stuck on the stairs when it was a spirit blocking the way, and Johnny also shushing the jock ghost in detention, and. Oh man. He’s been a total idiot.

“Y-yes,” he says, grabbing Johnny’s hand and lowering it. “Yeah. They’re okay. They’re ghosts. This is PJ, he’s like part of my family. Don’t hit him, okay? And Lefty’s a friend.”

“ _F-family_ ,” PJ sniffles, then flies forward to hug Max. Johnny flinches, but his breathing is starting to slow down.

“Max,” he says, staring at PJ’s ghostly lower half. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I. I can explain everything!” Max says. “…Um. Some things. I’m sorta new to this myself.”

Johnny looks up at him, and with a deep breath, Max begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To answer your questions: yes, Bird Eagle is named after Shred Eagle. Yes, he has a backwards baseball cap. Sadly, his sneakers were lost in a tragic washing machine accident.
> 
> (and yes: I could never write a chapter for this prompt that didn't include MAX'S SON)


	5. The Activity Club and the Abrupt Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day five: Pokémon.

Johnny’s recovery rate is, frankly, disturbingly quick. He gets a bit stuck on the whole zombie thing same as Max did, but is fairly swift to move on to the takeaway of superpowers and weirdo spirit fights.

Actually he gets really really excited about the prospect of weirdo spirit fights.

Which is… not really that much of a surprise.

Max doesn’t have any of the Activity Club members’ numbers memorized yet, so in the end he tells Johnny to meet up with him tomorrow morning and he’ll introduce him to the rest of the club. They part ways at dusk, with Max offering to walk Johnny home since he’s probably seeing a lot of weird stuff he’s not used to, and the bully reddening and viciously refusing the offer. Max didn’t mean to wound his pride, and if Johnny really has been seeing things for a few days now he guesses the suggestion was unnecessary anyway, but he still felt the need to make it. Watching Johnny walk off into the near-night, he finds that he  _wants_  to follow, to spend a little more time with someone else who is just as new to this spirit stuff as he is. Johnny is definitely going to be even more wild with spectral powers, probably, but it’s kind of exciting to imagine doing something like hitball with Johnny in the know this time around. They made a decent team, after all.

The upshot is that he’s pretty excited to go to school in the morning. Isaac is at the store buying breakfast again so they head to school together, and Max feels like he’s buzzing the whole way. He wants to share the news, but he also wants to see the look on everyone’s faces all at once, and besides he’s still determined to be petty to Isaac at least a few times today, so he keeps quiet. It’s pretty clear Isaac can tell something is up, given the sidelong glances he keeps giving Max, and the multiple times he almost says something.

Actually, Max realizes fairly swiftly upon arriving at school that he must just suck at playing it cool today, because it’s barely been five minutes with them all in the same room before Isabel turns to him.

“What’s gotten you so twitchy this morning?” she asks bluntly.

“I- I am not twitchy,” Max says indignantly. He hears a noise in the hall, and half-turns to see if Johnny is here yet.

Ed snorts loudly.

“Son, you’re twitchier ‘n a rattler’s tail,” he drawls. Spender makes a disgusted face at him, muttering about getting ‘enough of that already’, but Isaac just nods solemnly.

“Seriously, did something happen?” he says. “Max, you can tell me.”

“Us,” Spender corrects. “The Activity Club is behind you, Max.”

“Uhhhhhh,” Max says. He may have to reconsider international spy as a career choice if this is how he reacts to being confronted. “Guys, I–”

With perfect timing, Johnny kicks the door open, walks in, and sits down in the middle of the couch. Everyone turns to stare at him instead. He puts his hands in his lap, and takes a deep breath.

“I like fire,” Johnny tells them earnestly.

“…..Th-this isn’t the counselor’s office?” Spender says after a moment, looking a little horrified. Everyone does, to varying degrees. This is not what Max expected, but at least the faces are still hilarious. “Um. Please go see the actual counselor about that.”

“Thought ‘bout it a lot last night, Max,” Johnny continues, unperturbed, “an’ in the end, the answer’s as simple as it always was: fire is the best.”

“I – don’t follow,” Max admits. He’s sincerely hoping the bully’s brain has not broken due to the strain of ghosts being real.

“I picked  _Charmander_ ,” Johnny snaps, causing everyone in the room to jump. “I picked Cyndaquil, even over that friggin’ croc, I even picked that little chicken which worked out since it turned into a big punching type anyway, I like fire types. I wanna fire type.”

His gaze narrows in on Spender. “Gimme a fire type,” he commands, pounding a fist down onto his opposite palm.

“Wh-what?” Spender whispers. “Is this a prank?”

Max, at this point, cracks.

Only a moment ago, he was right in the same boat as everyone else: concerned for Johnny’s sanity and the safety of a world in which Johnny was a pyromaniac, but as soon as he comprehends what is actually going on here, he bursts straight through into complete and utter hilarity. Like, an immediate gut-hurt of a laugh.

“HA!” he says, and kind of points at Johnny while also clutching at his stomach. “Hahahahaha, no, Johnny- pfffftno, oh  _man…_ ”

“What?” Johnny says, no actually he’s kind of  _pouting_ , oh boy Max is going to bust something all right laughing this hard. “What, you got a cool steel type, I want fire. Like, a fire dog if you got one, with big metal teeth maybe –”

“You’re amazing, Johnny,” Max blurts, grinning so wide his whole face hurts. “ _No_. It doesn’t work like that, okay? This isn’t actually Pokémon.”

“N-never said it  _was_ ,” Johnny mumbles, face red all over. “Jus’, I mean, you said I could pick a tool an’–”

“ _Tool?_ ” Spender and Isaac gasp as one.

“It has to match the color of your weird stress smoke though, remember, the spectral energy,” Max reminds.

“ _Spectral energy?_ ” Spender and Isaac gasp. Still in perfect unison, it’s actually really impressive.

“Well gray is kinda smoky so it’d work for a fire type,” Johnny insists stubbornly. “Look, I dunno why yer laughin’ at me, you’re the one who told me last night spectrals are like Pokémon trainers–“

“I DID NOT,” Max laughs, so hard now that he has to shut his eyes and put a hand on his face and it still does not one iota of good at keeping the giggles in check. “I- I said spirits  _look_  like weird Pokémon, sometimes, and also sometimes like eldritch nightmares or cute little sea creatures, I mean – do you really think I’m gonna be spinning my hat around yelling ‘I choose you baseball bat?’”

“…sounds kinda fun though…” Johnny mumbles, sounding a little distracted. When Max opens his eyes, Johnny’s looking straight at him, face still really red, but smiling a little. It’s the nice one, like he had yesterday, the one Max really sort of likes actually.

“Yeah, all right,” he agrees, smiling back. “It kinda does.”

“…I see,” Ed says thoughtfully. “Johnny’s a spectral now and got you to dig him, Max. Nice job!”

He aims a thumbs-up at Johnny, who gets this smug little grin and shrugs, like, ‘no big deal.’

“Uh, dig what?” Max asks. “Huh?”

When he looks at Johnny for an explanation, the other boy avoids his eyes and a lot of gray smoke begins billowing out from his body in wild directions.

“JOHNNY’S A SPECTRAL NOW,” Isabel shouts ecstatically. She bounds across the room to yank Johnny into a hug, then back again to grab Max up, finally pinballing back to cling to Ed in glee, a whirlwind of affection too swift to counter. “ _Two_  new spectrals in like a  _week_ , this is so amazing I can’t believe it.”

“Johnny’s a… spectral now…” Spender mumbles. “Johnny.” His voice is rising now with, yep, that right there’s a clear edge of panic. “Johnny Jhonny is a spectral who likes  _fire_.”

“I mean I’m not sayin’ I’ll join your dumb club or whatever,” Johnny grins, settling back into the couch, smoke dissipating around him. “Jus’ I want more superpowers so I can punch zombie ghosts too. Max said he’s nearly died like three times already, it sounds  _sick._ ”

“You knew about this, Max?” Isaac asks. There’s a weird nervous look on his face. “When did it happen? When, uh-”

“That time ya thought I was dead after I fell on that rock and kicked lightning at nothin’,” Johnny suggests, “was weird.”

“Y-you probably eat a lot of citrus don’t you!” Isaac grins shakily, avoiding looking at Spender. Max wants to tell him not to bother, as the teacher is clearly in shock, but this conversation is too amazing to interrupt. He sits down on the couch next to Johnny to get a better view.

“Ooh, and that time you got a picture of us all floating in the sky on the ghost train, right,” Ed interjects fairly casually. Isabel squeaks a little. Maybe a lot.

“Yeah that too,” Johnny agrees.

Spender has begun to moan, a low, wordless plea.

“But mainly that thing on yer arm after hitball,” Johnny says, nudging Max with an elbow, “was kinda squishy-looking, and purple-”

“That’s  _PainKiller_ ,” Max tells him, making sure to emphasize the cool name. “It’s a little octopus that eats all your pain, there was one on your head when I first met you.”

Johnny is appropriately impressed by this.

“Diesel,” he judges, before continuing. “Anyway I see them and I’ve already punched one sorta, it was fun. I want a tool too.”

Lefty didn’t really count even as a sorta to Max’s mind, since he blocked every punch, but he won’t put it past Johnny to have gotten into a fight with a spirit on the way to school this morning, so he doesn’t try to make any corrections there.

Instead, he just sits there, mostly quiet except for the occasional smart remark, as the rest of the Activity Club try to pull themselves together in the wake of the cannonball known as Johnny. Ed is the only other person even slightly composed by the end of the meeting, and he holds Johnny back in the room for a second after everyone else leaves. Johnny grabs onto the back of Max’s shirt, not that he would have left anyway. He’s pretty curious about how these two know one another.

“…Your friends all saw that picture of us floating, too,” Ed points out in a quiet voice. “Why didn’t you mention them today?”

Max blinks. That didn’t even occur to him – but, as he looks sideways to Johnny standing next to him, he feels almost like he’s slipped back a few days to that moment in the middle of hitball, when he asked since when Johnny cared about rules.

“They figured it was CGI,” Johnny says with a big innocent smile, but Max hears  _I don’t_ and understands that Johnny’s gang has already been informed of everything. He thinks, with a sudden rush of warmth, that Johnny probably decided not to officially join the club as early as last night when Max told him what really happened during hitball.

His dad was maybe onto something about Johnny’s hands being good at protecting people, when he wants.

“Oh, cool!” Ed says, right back to chipper, and trots out of the room with a wink and a wave. It’s impossible to tell if he believes the blatant lie or not, at least for Max who still doesn’t really get the kid. Johnny moves to follow, but this time Max is the one to grab his shirt and hold him back.

“Wh-what?”

“You might be a bad guy,” Max says, though he’s not entirely sure of even that, anymore, “but you make a pretty good friend.”

Johnny’s face goes very red again, but this time he doesn’t stumble over his words.

“It’s me that’s lucky to have them,” he says firmly, and okay. Wow. Max still doesn’t approve of the bullying, but he’s starting to like Johnny more and more anyway. He’s kinda really glad Johnny wants to be his friend.

“I dunno,” he hums, walking around Johnny to head out the door. “I think that probably goes both ways.”

And he leaves, smiling (and feeling more than a little proud of that exit), Johnny’s gaze warm on his back all the way down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Max is gonna feel good about that exit all day long.
> 
> Also, who else feels like Max genuinely losing it laughing is Johnny's Kryptonite? Even when they're fully grown and he made it happen on purpose he still is just unable to cope with it.


	6. Max and the Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day six: the festival/fair.

“We’ll have to split up into pairs to cover all the possible locations,” Spender muses in his deep, dramatic mission-planning voice. At least he’s not talking to the window or standing in front of a fan so his jacket billows out this time. “I don’t want to leave  _anyone_  alone in the face of this threat…”

“Great,” Isaac grumbles, “so who’m I with, Isabel, Ed, or you?”

“Well, Isabel, but you don’t have to ask like  _that_.” Spender sounds mildly affronted. “Unless you actually want to go with Johnny again.”

“No thanks. Our philosophies clash,” he replies a little sourly. Looking over at Max, he half-smiles. “At least  _you_  can handle him.”

“Uh,” says Max, who is unaware that he’s ever been truly successful at curbing Johnny’s Johnny-ness. It’s been a few weeks since he came into his spectral powers, and even though he hasn’t officially joined the club he’ll help out from time to time – but while none of those times have ended in terrible failure yet, any word other than ‘chaos’ would still be a misnomer. “I can?”

“Can’t  _I?_ ” Ed jumps in before anyone can answer that genuine question. “I beat him up once and we bonded, you know.”

“Face it pal, even if that did really happen it’s not like it’s ever stops him from destroying everything when you fight together,” Isabel grins, affectionately punching him on the shoulder and causing him to stumble back a step.

Max reflects, not for the first time, that Isabel could probably beat up Johnny if she wanted, even without spectral powers involved. Alas, organizing a grudge match is not the order of business today, no matter how much he’d love to see it (Johnny) go down.

“Look, Isaac said no, Ed can’t control him at  _all_ , Isabel I’m a little afraid what would happen,” Spender breezes through that last one extra-quick, “and I just… don’t want to. Max, you’re with Johnny on this one. He won’t say no to you anyway so it all works out.”

“He says no to me all the time,” Max says, flashing back to the fifteen minutes spent yesterday having a shouting match over who could have the last tube of red paint in art. The confrontation ended with Johnny pinning Max’s head to the floor with a foot as he used up the entire tube purely out of spite even though it covered his whole canvas.

For some reason though, everyone seems amused by this claim. Isaac blatantly laughs.

“Sure,” he says, grinning like he knows something Max doesn’t. “Ask him to the fair. He’ll definitely refuse  _you_.”

* * *

“Whhhhhhhhhhh,” Johnny says, when Max asks him to the fair. “Whhhhut. W-who me.”

“Yes. And, um, not these guys,” Max says somewhat rudely, since if he doesn’t spell it out Johnny will definitely bring all his friends along. “Just you and me.”

“WITH YOU. ME. FAIR. WHAT.”

Behind Johnny, RJ collapses foaming at the mouth. Stephen falls to the ground to shake them, shouting pleas for their survival.

“Are you, uh, sick or something?” Max asks. “You’re super red and making no sense.”

Johnny spins to Ollie.

“AM I SICK, DUDE?” he roars in what appears to be panic. “’M I HALLUCINATING?”

Ollie leans in, squints at Johnny, feels his forehead, then inexplicably turns to Max, poking him several times and then tweaking his nose.

“Nope,” he tells Johnny, and claps a hand onto his shoulder, staring deep into his eyes. “It’s  _Code Twitterpate_.”

Johnny takes a deep breath at this. He slowly turns back to Max.

“S-sure,” he says, voice startlingly soft. “Um. Yeah. Okay.”

“Cool,” Max says. “I’ll meet you at the West Entrance around noon?”

“Y-yeah,” Johnny nods, still using that really really gentle voice. Ollie is beaming down at both of them like some kind of proud parent.

“…..See you then then,” Max says, and walks off quickly. After a minute, his phone buzzes.

[How’d it go?] Isaac asks.

[Once you parse through the crazy, he just really likes the fair I think.]

Isaac sends back a string of laughing-and-crying emoticons, then refuses to explain what’s so funny.

* * *

When Max arrives at the fair’s West Entrance at approximately noon-fifteen the next day, he is immediately accosted by a vigorous noogie from his partner for the day.

“ _That’s_  for bein’ late,” Johnny says smugly, as Max pretends to himself the tears in his eyes are only from the bright sunshine. Ow. Ow. Ow.

“Sorry, geez,” he says, rubbing cautiously at his head. “I had to ditch Zoey. My dad wanted me to bring her too, but I mean that wasn’t happening.”

“I like Zoey,” Johnny reminds Max, as though he doesn’t regularly wake in a cold sweat over that very fact.

“So do I but do you really wanna bring her along today?” he asks, instead of showing his fear. Johnny blinks, then grins widely.

“Nah,” he says brightly. “I think we’re good as-is.”

“Yeah, good,” Max repeats, sounding a little dumb even to himself, but he’s kind of distracted by Johnny’s smile. It is just… so happy. Does he really like the fair that much, or is it just the prospect of beating up a spirit?

Maybe it’s the combination of fair  _and_  spirit?

“Here, I’ll uh, I’ll pay.” Max stumbles forward to buy their tickets with the money Spender handed out yesterday. Johnny makes a small choking sound in the back of his throat but doesn’t protest. He grips his ticket really hard when Max hands it to him.

“Right, so, we’re by the fairgrounds with all the rigged games,” he says as they walk into the fair, studying his trisected map. Ed called the rollercoasters right away, making all the blood drain from Spender’s face. At least Max managed to jump in fast enough to get the carnie games and haunted house instead of the area with the ferris wheel and carousel, that would’ve been super boring. “Do you wanna–PFLGMH.”

“Got some cotton candy,” Johnny explains, unnecessarily since about half of it is currently blocking Max’s airways. He never even knew that was possible with something that melts so fast. “Here, ‘s for you.”

“Gee, thanks being so attentive,” Max snarks after he manages to stop choking, but the sarcasm appears to fly over Johnny’s head as he just grins a little wider and takes a bite of his own cotton candy.

Well, whatever. Max is always willing to appreciate terrible food that’s bigger than his face. He accepts his and continues munching on it as they start off down the fairway, meandering around to avoid spirits and ghosts mixed in with the crowd.

“I was gonna say, do you want to try and actually win anything? I know we’re supposed to check them out but I kind of don’t want to waste money on something no one can win anyway.”

Johnny scoffs. “I can win ‘em. Do every year.”

“You’re lying,” Max says immediately. “Or cheating. Nope, lying.”

Johnny’s chest puffs up, and he turns his head to grin one of his sharktooth grins at Max.

“Sometimes I forget ya ain’t been around forever, but then you say somethin’  _dumb_ like that,” he says fondly. Max is considering getting offended, but Johnny looks so happy at the chance to brag that he decides to let the insult slide this time. “You, new kid, are lookin’ at the King of the Carnival!”

“This is America,” Max deadpans.

Johnny just laughs, and dashes off to the nearest booth – one of those shooting galleries where you have to knock over the bottles. The guy behind the desk gets a very intense look on his face as soon as they approach.

“ _Jhonny_ ,” he snaps. “Y-you won’t beat me this year! I’ve fixed every flaw!”

“So… you’re admitting to rigging the game, then?” Max asks.

“Wh- no! This is a  _game of skill_ , and  _anyone_ could win a _fantastic prize!_ ” the guys shouts with a big grin… then leans across the counter and snarls, “But between you’n’me kid, you’re going DOWN.”

Johnny looks up at the prizes hanging from the roof.

“Max,” he says confidently. “I’m gonna win ya a  _tiger_.”

He – he does. Actually, really quickly, and Max is gifted a tiger bigger than himself by the crying carnie. He holds it awkwardly, unsure what to do with it and also still kind of stunned, frankly.

“Okay, that was actually really impressive,” he’s forced to admit. He’s tried his hand at these games before and never won one of the big prizes, even after reading  _How To Cheat A Cheat: Tips of an Ex-Carnie_  at the library.

Johnny flushes, grinning proudly.

“Jus’, just wait,” he kind of splutters, and then next thing Max knows they’re making their way down the row, challenging every game and decimating them all. It’s surprisingly fun, just watching Johnny go – he’s super into it, and keeps glancing up to make sure Max is watching, sending him these little grins and waiting expectantly for praise every time he dominates another challenge. It’s kind of hilarious, all these carnie guys are recognizing Johnny and getting all fired up to defeat him, but he doesn’t pay them any attention, too busy showing off. This one guy doesn’t even get to finish his rival monologue before Johnny’s popped all the balloons on the back wall and is shoving a stuffed elephant into Max’s (very full by this point) arms.

He even claims to have a technique for the Wheel of Fortune, which Max would normally scoff at, but by this point he just accepts the bragging as fact – a move justified when Johnny does, in fact, win on his first spin. By the time they arrive at the other end of the track, Max is exhausted just from dragging around the loot Johnny’s dumped on him, let alone the hours under the hot sun.

“All right, break time,” he huffs, dropping everything onto a luckily empty table. “Siddown your majesty, you deserve a funnel cake after all of that.”

Johnny plops down, grinning ear to ear, and he looks so  _proud_  of himself, obviously just having the time of his life. Max is really… really endeared by that expression for some reason, there’s just something about the sight of Johnny sitting there in his ‘like a boss’ shirt surrounded by stuffed animals, a dragon painted on his face, grinning up at the sky.

On a whim, he whips out his phone and takes a picture. Johnny blinks, losing the grin, and Max smirks.

“Got a new picture for my contacts,” he says, wagging his phone at his friend. Johnny’s cheeks go pink, and Max walks off to get the food before he can retort. On the way, he exchanges texts with the rest of club, reporting their lack of progress and confirming that so far everyone else is in the same boat. Though Spender has apparently vomited twice already, and Isabel made Isaac get his caricature then hurt herself laughing, which means that for once Max’s team is the only uninjured one, so far anyway.

When Max returns with the funnel cakes, sodas, and hot dogs, he’s ambushed by a heavy arm dropping around his shoulder. Johnny drags him into his side until their cheeks are pressed together, commands him to smile, then blinds him with his flash, all while Max is still struggling not to drop the food. Afterwards, he grins at Max, holding up his phone.

“Me too,” he says, and Max feels warm all over.

They really need to get under some shade at some point before he fries like an egg.

After they eat, Max points out the funhouse stuff – the haunted house comes first, of course, and he and Johnny step in together with all the confidence of preteens who have seen multiple movies they weren’t supposed to be old enough for yet. Though, Max doesn’t really have to sneak that much usually, his dad just tends to forget that ratings are a thing and invites him in to watch whatever. He kind of envies Johnny for getting to choose which stuff to smuggle in and watch in secret with his friends; it sounds a lot more fun than watching movies with his dad suddenly saying “oops” and covering his eyes at key moments while shouting off-key lullabies.

…Anyway. Max is kind of expecting the haunted house to be where the spirit finally jumps out at them. It’s kind of cliché, for an evil ghost to be in a haunted house, but those exist for a reason, right? He’s also kind of expecting to get told to leave his tool outside, because somebody bringing a baseball bat into a haunted house is just a recipe for disaster. Max and Isabel’s larger tools getting confiscated on rides and stuff is even the fake reason Spender made up after the fact for why they both needed to be paired with mediums today.

In the end though, both expectations are proven false. Max abandons his gigantic pile of stuffed animals outside, kind of secretly hoping they’ll get stolen because he’s tired of carrying them around, but the bored teenager at the door doesn’t seem to notice or care about the baseball bat sticking out of his backpack. And then once they’re inside, it’s darkish, and there are a lot of spooky noises, but it’s not actually that scary because the spirits that are everywhere in Mayview serve as kind of natural nightlights, making it really easy for spectrals to see the shoddy setup and the bored employees. The grudge they’re looking for isn’t around, and the closest Max comes to actually being scared is when he trips on the step going outside at the end and nearly falls on his face.

Normally Max would be majorly disappointed by something like this, but Johnny spends the whole trip through grumbling about not getting to reflexively punch the jump-scare staff in the face like he apparently normally does. Seeing them beforehand, he complains very seriously as Max attempts not to snicker too loudly, takes all the fun out of it.

“Th’ haunted house is supposed to hone my  _sick_   _senses_ ,” Johnny is still complaining as they step outside.

“Yeah, I can see the lack of  _spooks_  really has you  _aghost_ ,” Max agrees.

“My spirits ‘re  _low_ ,” Johnny admits, stepping over a line of small things that look like duck/toothbrush hybrids. He narrows his eyes pointedly at Max’s bat. “But I’m not gonna hold a  _grudge_ about it.”

Max laughs, breaking first. Normally he can go longer punning against Johnny, but right now he’s just in a really good mood, okay, so he settles for just kind of elbowing Johnny’s side. This devolves immediately into an elbowing match all the way over to the pile of fairground prizes, which Max is dismayed to see have not been stolen. Where is the rampant crime he was promised as part of the fairground experience?

“I can’t take all of these home,” he says, ignoring Johnny’s betrayed little noise. “This is way too much. Do you want ‘em?”

“I got those for  _you_ ,” Johnny complains. Then clears his throat and says, “Uh, I mean, I got like a million already anyway. Just keep ‘em.”

“No way, these are all donation-bound.” Max glances over at Johnny and instantly regrets it; his expression is practically the definition of quiet disappointment. It’s even worse that it’s  _quiet_ , somehow. He looks hurt, which just isn’t fair at all.

“…Fine, whatever,” he mumbles.

“– _Except_  Skullcruncher, of course,” Max blurts, then grabs at the first prize of the day. He instantly regrets choosing the gihuge tiger when he thinks about transporting this home, but it is the one Johnny actually promised to win for him and it’s kind of cool-looking, so. “Oh, and uh, something for Zoey. The weird donkey thing, I guess.”

“Nah, she’ll like the octopus better,” Johnny says. He’s correct. He’s also grinning, trying to hide it by stooping down to pull out the chosen toys from the pile, and for some reason him ducking his head and smiling into his shoulder as he hoists a five and a half foot tiger over it makes Max want to hug him, or ruffle his hair or something.

“R-right,” he says instead, snatching up the octopus and trying to hide his own smile for reasons he’s not entirely sure of. “A-anyway, uh, on to the hall of mirrors?”

It’s quiet and cool inside. Johnny’s quiet too, in that peaceful way he sometimes gets. He’s not the type of person you’d expect to be able to just be  _quiet_  with, but Max has noticed it happening on a fairly frequent basis when they’re alone together. He feels comfortable now, just like he always does when this happens, relaxed after a fun afternoon at the fair, and while the mirror house isn’t that exciting really, at least it’s not crowded.

He’s making faces into an eternity of reflections when he notices gray out of the corner of his eye. Half-turning allows him to see Johnny standing just behind him through another mirror. Something’s going on, but it looks to be all in his mind ‘cause Max can’t see any spectral reason for him to be emitting smoke. He looks like he’s in the middle of talking to his spirit, because he’s twitching pretty quickly in place, but of course that’s over in a couple of seconds.

When he emerges, it’s with a firm expression. He takes a deep breath, nods once to himself, then reaches forward, beyond the edge of the mirror Max is watching through. He’s not sure what Johnny’s trying to do; a second later he feels fingers brush against his hand, but at the same moment his phone buzzes, startling him, and he pulls it out to check his messages.

“Oh, hey! Isaac and Isabel got the spirit! Turns out it was in the ferris wheel watching the sunset and they surprised it from behind, talk about boring,” Max says. He looks up, laughing a little. “I kinda forgot that we were even here on a mission for a minute–”

He stops.

Johnny is staring at him, eyes wide, hand outstretched. Slowly, red spreads across his entire face. He drops his hand. He also drops Skullcrusher.

“I,” he says, and blinks several times. His voice is all croaky. “Um. I gotta  _go_ -”

Johnny spins around and bolts out of the room, crashing into four mirror walls on the way out. Max is left staring after him, completely confused. Somehow, he doubts that it’s Johnny’s bladder suddenly bothering him so much, a theory supported by the kid’s complete absence once Max finally makes it out of the mirror hall, but he doesn’t really know what else could be bothering Johnny so much.

When, after stalking the porta-potties for ten minutes, it becomes clear that Johnny really has ditched him, Max ends up convening with the rest of the Activity Club to catch a ride home from Spender, ending up smushed in the middle of the backseat between Isaac and Ed, and underneath Skullcrusher. He texts Johnny during the drive, asking what’s wrong, but there’s no answer.

“What’s going on?” Isaac asks quietly, nudging him.

Max isn’t sure what to say. He was having a great time all day, and he’s pretty sure Johnny had been too. Right up until that very last second, after talking to – oh.

“I think Forge said something that bothered Johnny,” he mumbles back, extra quiet since Spender is weird about Johnny’s spectral hitchhiker. “He got all red all of a sudden and just left, and now he’s not answering my texts.”

“Ah,” Isaac says wisely. “Ahhhhh. I see.”

“We all do, it’s not exactly subtle,” Ed interjects. Isaac ignores him.

Instead, he claps a hand on Max’s shoulder, smiling wisely down at him.

“Johnny will be okay,” he promises. “And Max, you’ll understand some day… when you’re  _older_.”

“You’re thirteen shut up,” Max retorts, and sinks down into his seat to grump in peace since no one else is being helpful.

[Seriously, you okay?] he types, then doesn’t close the phone. Keeps staring at that picture of the King of the Carnival, smiling so wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isaac is a Teenager and Wise in These Matters. ....or at least obnoxious.
> 
>  
> 
> (maybe it should've been "you'll understand some day... when you're _smarter_ "?)


	7. Max, Johnny, and the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day seven: older.

Johnny got over beating up nerds a few years ago, but he’s never quite left the habit of terrorizing innocents behind. Max, balancing on the handlebars of his boyfriend’s parked bike, sighs as he watches him leer menacingly at two freshman.

“It’s really not fair of you to be their first impression of high school,” he comments when Johnny finally finishes up his conversation. “They’re gonna have nightmares tonight, yanno.”

“I was givin’ them  _valuable advice_  ‘n  _life guidance_ ,” Johnny retorts, shoving Max in the middle of his chest. He wobbles, but doesn’t quite fall. “Also directions to the science lab.”

“If that’s even remotely true, you wouldn’t have done that thing with your face.” Johnny scowls at him, that crazy-eyed snarl only he can pull off. It’s by far not the most frightening expression he can make, but it sure is disconcerting. “Yeah, that right there.”

Johnny yanks him by the shirt this time, his brute strength overpowering Max’s anyday. He tumbles down, but refuses to hit the ground, just latching on to Johnny’s side and clinging. Undignified, maybe, but it gets Johnny to crack a smile for the first time all day, so hey.

“Get off me ya circus freak,” Johnny laughs, and Max tightens his grip.

“No way, the floor’s lava. Carry me to class, would you?”

“ _I’m_  gonna be lava ‘f you don’t let go,” Johnny grumbles, but his body doesn’t actually heat up and he starts to walk. They get a few weird looks on the way into the school building, but mostly only from the new students; this isn’t the first time this has happened by a long shot.

Of course, there’s a method to Max’s madness – for all his complaining, Johnny clearly adores when Max clambers all over him. He loves physical contact a ridiculous amount, in general. He pretty much will crawl into  _everyone’s_  lap during movie nights, he regularly greets people by hanging on them, he likes to high five and hug and hold hands and just, cuddle. With Max in particular, all of this is doubled if not tripled, with the bonus addition of his getting really embarrassed whenever he’s called out on it. He’s like, super into PDA, and also very scandalized by the thought of it when he actually realizes what he’s doing. It’s genuinely adorable.

And, sure enough, the clinging does the trick for at least the time being: Johnny’s scowl melts away, replaced by that hilariously equal split of obnoxiously proud yet blushy he gets whenever Max does this in public. Max is well aware this is far from a permanent fix, but Johnny’s been moody for several days now without explanation and it’s getting to the point where he’s legitimately bothered about it.

They don’t share a homeroom this year, so Max is expecting Johnny to shake him off at some point, but instead he delivers Max all the way inside his room, drops him on top of his desk, and then kind of just hovers there for a second with his hands on Max’s hips, watching him.

“Hey, you okay?” Max asks quietly. The smile he receives in response is truly angelic, in the way that only Johnny’s fake ones ever are. Years of staring in fascination at his boyfriend’s elastic face have given Max a very thorough comprehension of his expressions, and Johnny only ever smiles with his mouth closed when he doesn’t mean it. When he’s actually happy, he exposes his freaky medium sharkteeth in this huge manic grin that’s just, really impossible not to smile back at.

“When’m I ever not,” Johnny scoffs.

“Are you my teacher?” Max scoffs right back. “Don’t  _test_  me.”

Johnny’s teeth peek out at one corner in a half-grin, and without warning he drops his forehead down to Max’s. He closes his eyes and sighs.

Overcome by a wave of concerned fondness, Max kisses his nose.

“HYAGN,” Johnny yelps, leaping a foot straight back and going bright red. He stage-whispers, “ _Stop this is school_.”

The rest of the class don’t even bother looking their way.

“You’re gonna have to tell me what’s up sometime,” Max threatens pleasantly. “I’m not above making out in the middle of lunch.”

“I  _tolja_  I’m peachy!” Johnny snaps back, retreating fast in the face of such a prospect. In the doorway, he hesitates. “But uh unrelated I got somethin’ to ask ya after school so consider yourself  _bookmarked_.”

“That’s not h-” The door slams shut behind as Johnny bolts into the hallway. Sighing, Max slides down into his chair.

He’s a little scared about what this could be.

* * *

It’s not that he really thinks Johnny is going to break up with him. For all his numerous flaws, Johnny is marvelously talented at making people feel loved and appreciated when he wants to. Watching him interact with his gang was kind of the reason Max started to crush on him in the first place, and seeing his growing relationships with the Activity Club didn’t help. He actually realized he was a goner because of Johnny giving him comic books he wanted Max to pass along to  _PJ_  – once Johnny actually really likes a person, he pretty much constantly goes out of his way to make them happy, and never even considers it as especially thoughtful or special.

So Max, who has been the recipient of Johnny’s extremely intense if awkward devotion since seventh grade, pretty much never feels unwanted. It’s really,  _really_ nice, to be so secure in the fact that your boyfriend loves you even if he’s never actually said the words. Max is pretty sure he’s tried to, a couple times, but knowing Johnny it’ll be another three years before he hears them all said at once in the right order. He could probably speed up the process if he said them first, but he’s not exactly all that much better at this, so he’d kind of rather just let Johnny tackle that hurdle first. It’d be way preferable to just casually say, ‘yeah, me too’ back when the time comes.

Anyway, the point is that he doesn’t  _need_  the words to know… but, at the same time, somehow despite all of Johnny’s extremely effective affection, Max manages to have doubts popping up on the regular. He doesn’t actually  _believe_  any of them, when he stops to think, but sometimes it’s hard to trust in the better thing. It kind of goes against his whole nature, really. Max is so used to being the cynical pessimist that just being happy feels like he’s massively beating the odds, and whenever any hint of trouble on the horizon crops up he gets  _anxious_.

He never talks about those nerves, mostly because Johnny would take them as a personal failure when it’s really nothing to do with him. It’s all Max’s, and he knows it, and he tries not to let it sabotage him anymore. He already messed things up for like two years just by being oblivious and then doubting what was painfully clear to everyone else in the  _world_  until Johnny finally confronted him with a demand for a date that Max  _knew_  was a date. And yeah, that whole conversation was very romantic and all, and his fourteen year old self swooned for like a week straight over it (not that he’d admitted it), but he’d rather not have such grand gestures be necessary again, not when he apparently broke Johnny’s tweenage heart a couple of times before he got so fed up. So he tries real hard not to spend all day thinking that Johnny wants to break up with him. He reminds himself of the many and varied ways Johnny has no chill about loving him, that Stephen at least would never have been able to keep something like that hidden from Max, refrains from making out in the middle of lunch but does lean a little heavier than usual into Johnny’s side and enjoys the automatic way his boyfriend supports him and starts feeding Max his French fries without even pausing in his conversation with Stephen and Ed, doodles in his afternoon classes and thinks about Johnny’s snaggly smile.

None of it  _quite_  does the trick, but Max’s got himself pretty much under control all the way up until school lets out and Johnny meets him at his locker, looking genuinely nervous himself.

They gather up their stuff and head out, wandering off the road and into the woods about halfway home. Johnny knows his way around every inch of Mayview, maybe especially the wild parts, so getting lost isn’t a concern. What  _is_  concerning is the way Johnny hasn’t looked at him in fifteen minutes, his grip on Max’s hand verging on painfully hot.

“You ready to fess up yet?” Max asks once all he can hear is their feet crunching through the leaves. There are a few owlish spirits in the branches above them, but otherwise he and Johnny are completely alone. “What’s taking up all the space in that puny brain of yours?”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

“Wow, real estate must  _really_  be lacking if that’s all the thinking you can take.”

Johnny lets go of his hand to punch Max in the arm. Max dodges. They hold hands again and keep walking.

“’S just… my uh, guidance counselor was askin’ me about college plans,” Johnny mumbles. “An’, um, I wanna y’know tell you about it and stuff.”

“Okay, so tell me,” Max says.

“I… I wanna be a  _teacher_ ,” Johnny declares. Max turns to stare at him; he flushes, and rushes out, “like, little puny kids, like six or seven or eight or whatever. Y’know, when they’re still a good size to just pick up and throw an’ all, and… um… I don’t have to know too much complicated stuff so I think I could prob’ly do it –”

“Oh god,” Max says. “You’re going to get them all worshipping you.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, I can see it.” He really can; Johnny grinning terrifically behind twenty or so equally hyper kids, god probably at least half of them are gonna have dyed red hair and want to punch their way through all their problems, he can see it  _so well_. “You’re going to be terrifying.”

“Issat. Uh, good?” Johnny asks in this very small voice, and Max is pretty sure his heart physically wrings itself out in his chest.

“ _Yes_ , you doofus,” he laughs, “Johnny, you’re so good with kids. That’s perfect.”

Weirdly, Johnny doesn’t look very relieved. He doesn’t stop walking when Max tries to either, just clinging onto his hand and tromping along through the leaves.

“Well, good,” he sighs. “But Ollie’s, y’know, going off to win the Nobel Prize and whatever, and I was thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Me?”

“Leaving,” Johnny says very bluntly. It takes a few seconds for Max’s brain to even process the word, because. Because the idea of Johnny, confident down to his core  _Johnny_  having any doubt about  _Max_ is stunning, and impossible, and he feels incredibly guilty that he could’ve ever let it happen, and – what.

“I’m not  _leaving_ ,” Max says, uselessly. He feels like it’s probably time to stop walking around aimlessly and continue this conversation face to face, so he turns to his boyfriend and grabs his other hand too. “I mean, I don’t know what I’m gonna do, but I’m not–”

“Fixed the Ghost Train,” Johnny says, head tucked down. “You can, ‘f you want. That’s fine.”

“…Say what?”

“I, jus’.” Johnny looks up finally, and, oh. That’s… his face is  _bright_  red, and sure that happens fairly regularly, but this is a whole nother level, Max is pretty sure he can feel heat waves. He’s pretty sure he could literally fry an egg off this blush. But still, Johnny’s eyes are focused right on his, and his words are firm when he says, “Go wherever ya want. Just come back here.”

“Johnny,” Max says. He’s been burned before, literally, so he doesn’t touch his boyfriend’s face even though he wants to, just grabs his hands a little tighter and leans in closer and, what the hell, they’ve just barely started senior year.

“I’m prob’ly gonna buy us a house,” Johnny announces a second later. “Also.”

Max is dying here.

“J-Johnny,” he manages, after about two full minutes of strangled nonsense, “we’re  _seventeen_ , what– ”

“You’re fine with it though right?” Johnny demands.

“I – I mean I  _guess_ , sure, that’s. Yeah.” Max’s everything is on autopilot right now, he can’t function at all, he really wants Johnny’s face to cool down so he can smack it and also kiss it a lot. “Y-you realize you’re basically proposing right now?”

“Don’t hafta get married to live together,” Johnny huffs, in a voice Max recognizes as ‘quoting from Stephen’ – “Marriage is a government scam an’ tool of the patriarchy, anyway.”

He hesitates.

“But I mean if yo-”

“STOP,” Max shouts, flinging all caution to the wind as he slams both hands over Johnny’s mouth, “oh my god don’t say anything else, don’t  _actually propose_   _to me_.”

Johnny’s brows knit together.

“’Mnoff,” he denies. Max still doesn’t feel like it’s safe to let go.

His heart is beating so fast he can feel it bouncing off his ribs. He feels hypersensitive to everything: the slight breeze in the air, the far-off whisper of dry leaves sliding across the ground, the uncomfortable warmth of Johnny’s mouth under his hands.

“You haven’t even said ‘I love you’ yet, but you’re planning to buy a  _house_ ,” Max wonders out loud. “Y-you’re incredible.”

“Thanks, love you too,” Johnny snarks back, shoving Max’s arm off his face and also shattering every last bit of composure left in him (and also, stealing his line).

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU JOHNNY,” he shouts, grabbing him by the collar and just  _shaking him_. It does disappointingly little good. “I don’t even know what I want to do! I’m not legal for, like,  _anything_  right now! I can’t be expected to be making major life decisions at this stage!”

“…’Kay,” Johnny mumbles.

“T-that wasn’t a  _no_. I mean, sure, after my hypothetical out-of-town college life I’ll move into your theoretical future house paid for with an elementary teacher’s imaginary salary, but, Johnny,  _why?_ ”

“Apartment wouldn’t have enough room for m’ true hearts foreverboys, and whoever. Plus I wanna cat  _and_  a dog.” He says it in a combative kind of way, like the mere prospect of one person owning both is groundbreaking and more than a little scandalizing.

“Not what I meant, but, fair enough.”

“I mean, I get it,” Johnny scrubs a hand behind his head, shrugging. “Yeah, it’s really early and stuff, but. I just wanted you to know I’m uh, I’m thinking about it.”

This is more than Max can physically take.

“Well I am too  _now_ ,” he grumbles, reaching up and fanning Johnny’s cheeks. It takes a second, but the heat starts to fade as he catches on, though they remain flushed. Max puts his hands on them, tilting in until their foreheads are touching. “And yeah, sounds good. I just can’t believe you’re  _planning_  something.”

“Shaddup I’ll punchya boi,” Johnny says.

Max kisses him.

“You’re a huge weirdo,” he says, after breaking away. Then, self-recriminating: “I’m even worse for  _liking_ it.”

“Heheh,” Johnny snickers. “Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment–”

“Kinda was.”

“ _Stop_ ,” but Max knows he’s grinning, wide and manic to match Johnny’s stupid pointy smile, knows he doesn’t actually want Johnny to ever stop  _really_  (even if in this moment, yes, he needs to quit), knows he’s just as in love as Johnny is, knows now much to his surprise that at some point in the next five to seven years they will be living in a house together. RJ in their basement recording death metal, most likely, and a cat and dog with no doubt either a very combative or codependently close relationship, and Max will be doing [redacted] while Johnny is molding the minds of young Mayview children, lord help them.

How the hell is he gonna be the resident cynic  _now_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jang future occupations: Ollie is a physicist, RJ makes hardcore deathmetal, Stephen is a National Geographic photographer with weirdly excellent luck on hyena photos, and Johnny is the most beloved elementary school teacher in all of Mayview. Spender claims this is due to his influence but Johnny specifically avoided middle school and older kids because of watching Spender so he's only right in the saddest of ways. 
> 
> The Activity Club future occupations: ???? I don't have a clue for any of them hahaha.
> 
>  
> 
> ...anyway, this has been huge amounts of fun to write. Thanks to everyone for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> RED ALERT THERE IS NOW ADORABLE FANART: [look at these blushy boys](http://vickyvicarious.tumblr.com/post/163019131831/twothreepnats-i-really-couldnt-help-myself-so-i)


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